


The Force Shall Free Me

by Lumielles



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Love/Hate, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Mutual Pining, Origin Story, Single Parents, Slow Burn, Teenage Parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 07:18:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15990359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumielles/pseuds/Lumielles
Summary: The origin story for my Sith Inquisitor, Aramys, and her father, my (eventual) Jedi Consular, Idan.Rewritten and updated.How two slaves from Ziost eventually become two of the galaxy's most influential people.





	The Force Shall Free Me

**_Prologue_ **

     The omnipresent rain of Dromund Kaas made it difficult for Idan to keep his footing in the mud as he tried to hold onto his mother.  Her nails were digging into the skin on his forearm as a trooper grabbed his waist and hoisted him into the air.  Tightening his grip on his mother’s clothes, Idan tried to kick at the trooper, the humid air filling his lungs as he screamed.

     The small crowd of slaves that’d formed around their display began to dissipate, all afraid of being caught in something they weren’t a part of.  The mother and son being separated weren’t any of their business.  Still, Aramysia looked around for help as she began to lose her grip on Idan’s arms, the rain making them difficult to hold onto.   Everyone that still stood nearby looked away, shuffling their feet on the jungle floor beneath them.

     “Idan!” she called, throwing herself against the officer that stepped in to block her.  They shoved her back, and she fell into the mud.

     Feeling his feet leave the ground, the seven-year-old tried to wriggle himself free, beating his smalls fists against the trooper’s armor plating.  Twisting his body and flailing his legs he tried to lunge back toward his mother.  He looked up just in time to see the officer hit his mother in the head with the butt of a blaster, sending her to her knees.

     Idan became airborne as the trooper threw him into the shipping container, tossing him with little effort like a sack of garbage into a compactor.  His shoulder took the brunt of his fall, hitting the durasteel floor with a loud snap.  Pain seared down to his fingers and up to his jawbone, his shoulder felt like it was on fire.  It felt like needles and pins were being forced into his skin as his arm slowly went numb.  His throat, already raw from his screaming, began to burn as he cried out again.  Louder this time.  The handful of slaves that’d also been picked from the camp stood against the walls of the container, keeping their eyes down.  If any of them were crying, Idan was drowning them out.

     As the container began to close, the officer blocking his mother stepped away.  Through the shrinking space between the door, Idan felt a little relief as she rushed toward him.  A few seconds where he was hoping his mother would be able to join him, or even better, save him. 

     Everything went pitch black as the door fell the last few feet, resulting in a bang that made Idan’s ears begin to ring.  There was another bang, duller than the one before it, like the sound of someone hitting it with their palm.  Muffled voices, indistinguishable from those inside.  But Idan knew it was his mother, he could feel it. 

     The pain in his arm became background noise as he stood, taking several quick strides to the wall of the container.  He pressed his left hand against it, his other arm hanging limply at his side.

     “Mama!” he called out, blinking through the tears that stung his dark brown eyes.  He hit his hand against the durasteel, the bang echoing.  “Mama!”

     He wasn’t sure, but he thought he could hear her say his name.  Another dull thud from the outside, right over where he’d hit the wall.  Idan hit it again, receiving another in response.   He hit it once more, but no reply.  He called out for her again, slamming down his palm over and over again until it began to go numb as well.

     A sharper bang came from the outside, startling him.  He fell backward, his arms instinctually bracing his fall.  The injured shoulder popped, and the pain shot right through him, worse than before.

     “Somebody shut him up!” a slave hissed in the dark.

     “You do it!” Another snapped.

     Unseen arms wrapped themselves around Idan as he was lifted again.  The arms were gentle,  handling him with great care.  Idan pushed against the person, his eyes still unadjusted to the dark.

     “It’s alright,” a boy’s voice said.  He spoke calming over Idan’s softening cries, settling the both of them on the floor against a wall.  “My name’s Elumriel, what’s yours?”

     “Idan,” Idan said, his lips trembling as he tried to force himself to stop crying.

     “Idan, I know you.   You’re the boy that got the Overseer in trouble because you got stuck in that tree.”  The boy chuckled, soothing Idan a little, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.”

     “I want—” Idan bit his lip hard, maybe too hard, “I just want my mama.”

     “I know,” Elumriel said sadly. 

     The container shook as the transport carrying it began to take off, the engine humming beneath them and making the floor vibrate.  A woman started sobbing in the far corner.

     “How old are you, Idan?” Elumriel asked.  Idan looked up at the vague outline of Elumriel that he could now make out.  He could see several horns on his head, a zabrak.

     “Seven,” Idan answered.

     “I’m twelve.” Elumriel said, “You’re not that much younger than me,”

     “I’m scared,” Idan said bluntly.  Rainwater dripped from the black curls that’d fallen into his eyes.  The water fell onto his lips, and down his chin.  Idan shook his head, pushing the hair back into place.  The blood he tasted in his mouth told him that he had bit his lip too hard earlier.  He hadn’t felt his teeth break the skin because of the pain in his shoulder.

     “I’ll make sure you’re alright,” Elumriel assured him, “We can be brothers now.”

     Idan nodded vacantly.  He could hear what the zabrak boy was saying, but they weren’t absorbing.  The words made sense individually, but when strung together they sounded like nonsense.  While the boy was a comfort, Idan didn’t ever expect to see him again, let alone form some kind of brotherly bond.  His mind was focused solely on his mother, her voice muffled by the metal walls, the unbelievable panic he felt when she didn’t respond to him banging.

     He could feel her, but her presence was shrinking.  He reached out, harnessing that mystical power his mother made him promise to keep hidden.  It could get him killed, or taken away, she told him.  As he’d already been taken away, Idan didn’t much care if he survived the following hours or not.  It was worth the risk.  To hold onto her shrinking aura as he clamped his eyes shut.  The last time he’d ever feel her there.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Chapter One**

_12 Years Later_

 

     His breath came out in a cloud of vapor, blending in perfectly with the thick fog that hung around the spires of New Adasta.  Ziost, by far, was his least favorite of all the planets he’d been so.  The air was dry as a bone, making the curly black hair on his head even more frustrating to deal with than usual.  Stripes of gray sat at his temples and forehead, making him look at least a decade older than he was.  There was a lack of wrinkles on his face, which was youthful but long.  High cheekbones framed deep-set eyes, and his nose, a bit crooked from an old break, stuck out from his face like a beak on a bird.

     Idan folded his arms, burying his hands under his armpits.  Any skin exposed was beginning to sting from the cold, but he didn’t think he could bear to go back inside.  The glass doors out onto the balcony were thick enough to block out any of Petra’s screaming.  Looking over the banister, he saw the street lights begin to switch from night to day.  One of the downsides to building a city under a mountain. All the lighting was artificial.  And you had to keep your slaves on a regimen of vitamins to keep them from getting sick.

     Idan hated the way the vitamin paste tasted.  Some of the other slaves smeared it on toast for breakfast.  Not wanting to ruin a piece of perfectly good, albeit stale, bread, he had always just taken it directly, drowning the flavor with a mouthful of bantha milk.

     The click of the doors opening startled him.  He stopped thinking about vitamins and remembered why he was standing out here.  He could hear Petra yell out in agony as Landris, an older togruta, came outside.  Idan shut his eyes so tightly he saw flashes of blue and yellow and his head began to hurt. 

     “It’s freezing out here,” Landris said, standing beside him, “Are you alright?”

     “No,” Idan said, his voice coming from deep within his throat.  His legs began to shake, either from the cold or his anxiety.  “Is it almost over?”

     “Over?” she said with a sympathetic smile, “Idan, this part of your life is only just beginning.”

     “I don’t want this,” he said in a breath, another vapor cloud appeared before him, swirling into the frozen air.

     “Nobody would want this, Idan,” Landris said, putting a hand on his back, “But now you have to decide what you’re going to do with it.  Let it break you or—”

     “Or make me?” Idan scowled at the city below.

     “As I said, it’s up to you,” Landris sighed.

     “I don’t know if I can.”

     “You’re wonderful with Brevom.”

     Idan felt a pit form in his stomach.  Brevom, Petra’s four-year-old son.  The boy had just taken to calling Idan ‘papa’, and it made Idan’s skin crawl.  He hadn’t adopted the boy in any way, but the kid was persistent.  And who was Idan deny Brevom the father figure he wanted so badly?  Even if it hurt.

     “But he’s not—” Idan stopped himself, trying to decide how he could say what he felt without sounding like a sociopath.  “I didn’t _create_ him; I didn’t have a hand in his existence.  I have no—He was born two years before I was even bought by Lady Vemora—”

     “Is it so different?” Landris challenged him.

     “ _Yes!_ ” Idan hissed through his teeth, turning to her quickly.  He was angry, not at her, but at everything.  “Because I swore to myself years ago that I would never, ever, put a child through what I did.  What I’m still going through.  A child shouldn’t be raised with a collar around its neck.”

     “I know this is what Vemora wanted, for you and Petra to have a daughter—”

     “She wants another little pet to groom into the perfect obedient shadow,” Idan growled, “I hate that she made us do this.  To her, we’re just dolls in her dollhouse, forced to play happy family.  This ‘family’ is going to be anything but happy.  Those fertility treatments—”

     “We both know this wasn’t the result of those treatments,” Landris said, “You forget, but I was the one who had to administer them to Petra.  This child was conceived two months after the Lady decided it wasn’t worth the effort.”

     Idan’s nose wrinkled, knowing he was caught in a lie.  “Fine, this is my mistake.  I’m the conductor of my own misery.  Better?”

     “I forgot how moody you teenagers can be,” Landris mumbled, taking a step away from him.  “Or is there something else bothering you?”

     “Everything is bothering me.”

     “Idan.”

     “What if I just—What if I’m not good enough?” Idan threw his arms out to his sides, “What if I make this baby’s life worse instead of better?”

     “I can say that the fact you’re worried about those things already gives you a leg up on most fathers I’ve known,” Landris said warmly.

     “Please,” Idan huffed, crossing his arms again.  “I’ve already failed them.  They’re a slave and they haven’t even taken their first breath yet.”

     “Have you picked out a name yet?”

     Idan snorted, another excessive puff of vapor escaping him.

     “Petra barely wants to acknowledge that she’s pregnant, and I—Well I’ve been ignoring it since we—” Idan paused, “—left things the way we did.”

     “Figure something out before Vemora takes that privilege from you.  Like she did with Brevom.”

     “The Lady named Brevom?”

     “Petra refused to.”

     “Of course she did,” Idan rolled his eyes.

     “Okay, that’s enough, you’re going to catch your death out here, come back inside,” Landris took his arm, pulling him back toward the apartment.  As Landris opened the door, he was met with unsettling silence. Petra’s anguished cries had ceased.

    

     Suddenly, he was running toward the back of the apartment.  Flying into the kitchen so quickly that he lost his footing and slammed his hip into the island counter.  He grunted, taking off again once he regained his balance.  Down a narrow corridor, only half lit at this time of night, was the door to Petra’s room.  Instantly, the hallway grew.  The door at the end appearing to be miles ahead of him.  Unexplainable fear gripped his heart, squeezing it until he found it difficult to breathe. 

     There was nothing good laying beyond that door.  Whether their baby was alive or dead, he would have considered either outcome less than ideal.  And yet, the thought of it being dead, for whatever reason, made his veins fill with ice water.  He slowly walked down the hall, one care foot in front of another.  Each footstep bringing him closer to an answer he wasn’t sure he wanted.

     A piercing cry broke through his panic, bringing him to an immediate halt right outside the door.

     His daughter.

     He’s known it was a girl for months, sensing it through the force with minimal concentration on his part.  It was like she wanted to be heard by him, to be recognized.  He had worried that it meant she was sensitive to the force like he was.  He’d been able to hide it, keep in check with techniques he’d learned from his mother.  More extreme practices had to be made these days to focus the energy elsewhere, but he had managed to keep it a secret.  On the day he sensed their daughter, however, he had told Petra.

     Back when he trusted her with everything.  Heart included.

     The door slid open, revealing the towering figure of his pureblood master.  She stood nearly a foot above him, and while he was on the shorter side, she was just as uncommonly tall.  Long dark red woven braids, only a few shades darker than her skin, were plaited together in an intricate twist down her back.  A silk shawl was wrapped around her, covering up her equally grandiose nightgown.

     “It appears you can do something right after all, Lumielle,” Vemora barred her pointed teeth at him, in more of a sneer than a smile, as she passed him.

     Time slowed to a crawl as Herid, a slave belonging to Vemora’s new husband, appeared in the doorway, blocking his view of Petra.  She held his daughter in her arms.  From where he stood, he could already see a shock of black hair on her head; though it was straight as a pin and stuck up in every direction imaginable. 

     “Here’s your daddy,” Herid said to the infant.

     Herid’s words echoed in Idan’s head until it sounded like there were twenty of her standing in front of him.  He wasn’t even able to come up with a response before she put the baby into his arms.  She was lighter than he expected and so small he felt like he’d break her just by moving.

     It was when she opened her puffy little eyes that Idan found himself hit by an unusual self-realization.  Under all those feelings of anger and guilt, he’d been hiding the emotional the terrified him the most.  It was clear to him now that the devotion and pride he felt surging through him were what he’d been having difficulty accepting.  He’d gone so many years trying to care as little as possible for those around him; every year he’d fail.  An old master of his used to say he had a bleeding heart for everyone but himself, despite having nothing to offer.

     “Clean her up, use a soft cloth and warm water.  No soap.” Herid instructed, “Go to the kitchen.”

     “What?” Idan said looking up from his daughter.

     “I need to finish with Petra,” Herid pointed to the doorway behind her, “You need to clean—Idan are you alright?”

     “I’m not sure,” Idan said distantly.

     “I’ll help him,” Landris said from behind him.  He felt her hand on his arm again, pulling him back toward the kitchen.

     “Okay,” Idan mumbled, shuffling after her.  He was afraid to walk too quickly, or even lift his feet from the floor too far. 

 

     How he could feel so insignificant next to something so small and new, he’d never understand.  As her tiny wrapped around his finger, he knew there was nothing in the universe that could stop him from being her protector.  She brought her fist to her mouth, sucking on two fingers with clumsy lips.  An infantile grunt came from her, wrapping around Idan’s heart as he chuckled.  Idan’s guilt still hung around him, almost as heavy as the collar that sat around his neck. 

     Of all the designs he’d been forced to wear, this one was by far the least comfortable.  It went all the way around and had two prongs implanted into the back of his neck; to provide a more devastating shock to the slave than most models allowed.  Idan’s eyes went to his daughter’s neck, it was barely visible beneath her round face, but in a few years’ time it’d be burdened with a similar weight.

     “What about naming her after your mother?” Landris broke his thoughts, putting a small plate of cut fruit beside him on the table.

     “Aramysia?” Idan said, another smile pulling at his mouth, “That’d be torture for a child to learn.”

     “You’re smiling,” Landris said as she settled across the table from him.  She rested her chin in her hands, watching him.  Idan felt his face begin to grow hot at the attention.

     “I barely know her,” he said as he brought the cloth in his hand down the baby’s arm, “I never expected to feel so—so happy to see her.”

     “I told you there was nothing to worry about.  This life won’t be easy, but I think you two are going to be fine.”

     “I should learn to listen to you,” Idan sighed.  He looked back down at the baby, whose face had twisted into a scowl.  She smacked her heart-shaped mouth, no longer finding her fingers as satisfactory as before.

     “What is she doing?” Idan removed the cloth from her skin, a little panicked.

     “She’s hungry,” Landris laughed, “You didn’t break her.”

     “Ha, right,” Idan blushed again, “I should—bring her to Petra?”

     “That’d be best,” Landris nodded, “Brevom will be waking soon, you should go while you still can.”

 

     The door to her room opened as it sensed him, sliding into the wall with little noise.  Petra sat in her bed, propped up by several pillows.  Herid was at her feet.  Both of them spoke in soft voices, ignoring Idan as they finished their conversation.  Idan had no interest in what they were saying, finding himself too focused on the newborn adamantly sucking on his finger.  She gummed at it, growling frustrated.

     “Idan,” Petra said finally, looking to the doorway, “Is she hungry?”

     “Yes,” Idan said without looking up.

     “I’ll give you some privacy,” Herid said under her breath, sneaking past Idan as he entered.  Petra’s bedroom was nothing more than a converted storage closet with a bed and a small chest of drawers.  There weren’t any windows, and the only source of light was the bedside lamp.  Wisps of ash blonde hair still stuck to her forehead, most of it tied up at the nape of her neck.

     “Give her to me,” Petra said, putting out her arms.  Idan settled at the foot of her bed after handing her their daughter, clearing his throat and looking away as Petra brought the newborn to her breast.

     “It’s not like you haven’t seen them,” Petra rolled her eyes, setting her daughter up quickly. 

     “I know,” Idan tilted his head, “Did the Lady say anything about her?”

     “Not really.  She got what she wanted.”

     “Are you alright?”

     Petra didn’t respond, which was an answer in itself.  It told him more about her state of mind than words probably could.

     “Do you—” Idan bit down on his lip, “Would you like to help me name her?”

     “I’m sure whatever you come up with will be fine,” she said softly.

     “It was suggested I name her after my mother,” Idan chuckled, looking to her for a reaction.  There was none.  “Though Aramysia is a little much, I think.  Maybe Aramy?  Or Aramys—”

     “I like Aramys,” Petra said, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the right corner of her mouth.  Idan noticed it, how could he not. 

     “You do?” Idan raised his eyebrow with a smirk.  This was the longest they’d spoken since she broke off their fledgling of a relationship two months earlier.  He knew he’d missed her, but he hadn’t realized how much until now.  He felt relieved being able to talk to her again, like a hole he wasn’t aware of finally being filled.

     “It’s fine,” Petra shrugged with one shoulder.  “She looks like you, doesn’t she?”

     “A bit.  The black hair is familiar.”

     “She has your eyes,” Petra ran a finger down the bridge of Aramys’ nose, “Dark and inquisitive; she’s going to be a handful.”

     “Ah, not exactly what I want to hear,” Idan dropped his head.  “Especially not that there will be two of them.”

     “Landris will help.”

     “She’s not the help I was looking for,” Idan said. 

     Petra looked back down at Aramys, brown eyes were beginning to flutter; trying desperately to stay awake as she looked up at her mother.  Just as it had been with Brevom, any motherly love she felt was being overwhelmed by the alienation she felt in her own body for the past nine months, that she felt now with the baby against her, she hated it.  It would take her weeks just to feel like she was herself again, she remembered how difficult it’d been after Brevom.  Finally, Aramys unlatched and Petra felt like she could breathe a little.

     “I told you, I’ll be around when I can.  You know the Lady’s schedule is—” she began, in the emotionless tone she knew made Idan uncomfortable.

     “You barely help with Brevom when you are here, Petra,” Idan snapped at her.

     “Do we have to do this now?  I just spent over eight hours in labor with your daughter.”

     “Our daughter,” Idan said, his voice clipped.

     “No, _your_  daughter.” Petra glared up at him as he stood from the bed.

     “Give her back,” Idan said through clenched teeth, scooping the newborn from Petra before she could speak.  “I’ll bottle feed her from now on if that’s alright with you.”

     “I’d prefer it,” Petra threw him a nasty pinched smile.

     “Right,” Idan growled as he left the room with several long strides, not looking back as the door closed behind him.

     When he entered the kitchen, unsure of where else to go, he saw Brevom sitting at the table, picking at a plate of cut fruit.  He forced any anger he was feeling about Petra down, unsure if he’d ever get the chance to deal with it.  Herid sat across from him, hands wrapped around a cup of tea.

     “The baby!” Brevom exclaimed, jumping up in his chair.

     “Quiet, Brev, don’t scare her,” Idan said, settling in the seat beside him.  He tilted his body, allowing Brevom to get a better look at his baby sister.

     “Hi,” Brevom whispered down at her.

     “Her name is Aramys.”

     “That’s okay I guess,” Brevom said.

     Herid coughed on a laugh, bringing a green hand to her mouth.

     “I appreciate the honesty,” Idan stifled his own laughter.  “Finish eating your breakfast; then I’ll let you hold her.”

     “No thank you,” Brevom took a bite of pear, fruit juice dripping down his chin.

     Propping Aramys into the crook of his arm, he used his free hand to bring a napkin to Brevom’s face, wiping the boy’s face before he could make a mess.

     “Thanks, Papa,” Brevom rubbed at his face with the back of his hand as Idan pulled away.

     “You’re welcome,” Idan’s voice was soft, his mind wandering, “Herid, if it’s alright, I think I’m going to try and get an hour of sleep before the Lady officially wakes up.”

     “Of course, I’ll keep an eye on Brev.” She said.  “Go sleep.”

 

     Idan didn’t sleep.  He hadn’t expected to.  He just needed a second alone.  Alone as he could be with an infant, anyway.  She was slowly drifting off to sleep beside him on the mattress in the sleeping quarters.  His bed was against the far wall, so he didn’t worry about her falling.  Not with him curled around her. 

     “You’re going to have to go easy on me,” he said to her, “I don’t know what I’m doing, so we’ll have to figure all this out together.  I never expected there to be a ‘we’ but—Now that you’re here I feel a little less alone.”

     Aramys opened her mouth, not quite a yawn.  He inched his face closer to hers.

     “We don’t have it perfect here, and I’m sorry for that, but it’s not so bad.  We have food and a warm place to sleep. And I’ll be here for you as long as I can—”

     Idan pulled away, readjusting his head as his breath hitched, “No, we aren’t going to think about that for a while.  I’m with you now.  Aramys.”

     Her eyes opened like if she already knew her name.  A chubby arm broke free from the blanket she was wrapped in, reaching for his nose.  Little fingernails scratched him as she tried to ball her fist around one of his nostrils.

     “Hey now,” Idan laughed, “Easy with those.”


End file.
